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Chris Webby lyrics : "Fuckin Problems (Freestyle)"

Bars are still on me man, you know
I just keep going, ct where you at,
Yeah, it's like that


See I'm a beast, always have been
Always will be

Hungry, a 7 course meal couldn't fill me
Wanna come and step to the flowin
Then $#&@er feel free

I could make a lyricist look like lil b
Been in the game for a minute under your radar
Building my momentum for the moment that I'll take charge

My reflection's still the same like spelling racecar
Now I've just come far enough to overcome the race card
Let me break it off toppa

Freestyling to your chick, yeah take it off mama
I'm a profession $$#
Showing you who really hotter

Got a smaller change at beating me
Then finding Jimmy Hoffa
Got a lotta people rolling with me, how is it a shocker

That I made it to the top
Spitting out this molten lava
Now I'm frying rappers up just like some calamari

Sorry, I'm chewing any beat like a piranha
With a weed up in my paper or up in a Philly, $#&@ it
Till I'm on the beach with a marguerite like Jimmy Buffet

I'll be spittin these flows
Time to really get it man
Snapping like a gorilla, wearing a silly band

Like a tattoeed grizzly
Sick, representing raccoon city
Playing these shows then I smash two biddies

Blazing these blows till I stack two milli
Came up in the game like a certified hustler
Pedal to the metal till I'm burning my muffler

$#&@ ya, everyday I stay smoking
My jar is ajar, yeah I keep that %#@! open
Potent, they can't measure up I'm too tall,

Yo choke em, murder on the mic and now they all know
Frozen, spit is so cold that I cause snow
You gonn need a sweater and beanie like Waldo

Mother$#&@er I am that dude
Who else could pull off these super Mario tattoos?
I got these other rappers salty, like cashews

Cause I'm bad news for my competition, that's true
Coming through my dude, I have limitless
Sick, achoo, I proved I spot rigorous

Hating on me while I bruise your chick's !@$%oris
And she was into it
And I was into her, get it (*##$?

Kid Icarus, flying through the clouds
With a bottle full of liquor
And a pocket full of loud

Go across the country and I'm rocking every crowd
I'm a dog, 100 deeds of Eddie McDowd
And I'ma spit my damn flows

Suburban commando, call me Rambo, back pack on like Banjo
Kazooie, truly in charge like Soprano
A Jax at the head of the table, of SAMCRO

My mind wanders while I'm writing a freeverse
And this weed only makes my a.d.d. worse
But I'm coming with the bars,

Let a beast work
That's why your little sister got a webby t-shirt
Rock it, dope hip-hop it

Full speed with it and I never plan on stoppin'
Italiano on the mic, so you'll be $#&@in' mobbin'
All I do is murder beats, I got a $#&@in' problem.



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